Soulful Eyes
by Adele Elisabeth
Summary: Everybody needs somebody to lean on. Even Spike.
1. Soulful Eyes

[Disclaimer: I do not own anything Joss Whedon created...much as I'd like to own Spike]

Author's Note:

I don't like Buffy/Spike in any way, shape, or form, but this story's going to be more or less true to canon. Except for timeline -- season two of Angel hasn't even been in New Zealand yet, so I haven't seen anything other than half of season one (I had control of the TV every second Wednesday because Angel and Mum's favorite show were on at the same time) and bits and pieces of I think season two or three (holidaying in Australia, caught a few episodes). So I'm just shoving Season Six Buffy with what I have seen of Angel. 

Soulful Eyes

by Adele Elisabeth

Spike stood on Cordelia's doorstep, drunkenly pondering what exactly he intended to do. 

He'd heard, from eavesdropping on unsuspecting Scoobies, that Cordelia had really been good for Angel. Helping him through his dark times, being his 'human connection'. 

She helped Angel. Maybe she could help him.

With that in mind, Spike knocked. 

Cordelia groaned. Couldn't they call first? If this was Angel coming to check on her again, she'd stake him herself. A girl needed some alone-time, and Cordelia Chase's alone time involved chocolate, alcohol, a pathetic romance novel, and a bubble-bath. Sighing, she got out of the bath, dried off a little and slid into her bathrobe and fluffy slippers. 

She opened the door to find a very different, but distinctly familiar face. 

Spike was lounging on her porch, and if she wasn't mistaken, he'd been crying recently. Into a whole lot of alcohol. 

"Spike? What the hell are you doing here?" she demanded, kneeling down, but not coming out of the protective barrier her home offered.

He stared at her, and Cordelia was trapped in his gaze for just long enough.

She knew that look. That haunted, suffering, guilt-ridden, pain-filled look. She saw it every time Angel let his guard down just a second. Just a second was all it took. She'd christened it his soulful eyes, privately. Cordelia never thought she'd see that look in Spike's ice-blue eyes. She knew he was chipped -- Angel had laughed so hard she thought he was going to get a happy -- but souled? This was new. Cordelia didn't know if it was her own intuition or Someone Up There wanted her to know, but she knew. Spike had a soul.

"Spike? What happened?" her tone was gentler this time. She knew he couldn't hurt her, not with his chip, and hopefully his soul meant he wouldn't try. She swallowed her doubts and reached out, coming to sit in front of him. "Spike?"

To her surprise, Spike began to sob. So she did the first thing that came to mind, she pulled him into her arms and rocked him slowly, like you would a child. 

They stayed like that for quite some time.

Later on, Cordelia had managed to get Spike inside, and they were on the couch. He seemed reluctant to leave the safe, comforting feeling that Cordelia offered, with his head resting in her lap. 

"Talk to me," she instructed softly. Spike hadn't felt this warm safety for a long time -- not since he was a boy, with his nanny holding him close and keeping him safe. That's who Cordelia reminded him of, he thought to himself, Nanny. "Tell me what happened." 

So, he did. 

He told her everything. Buffy coming back, the mutual 'using', what happened with Anya, the bathroom, how he'd never be able to face Buffy again, and what happened with the demon. Throughout, Cordelia showed no signs of judging him.

"You made some mistakes, Spike, some pretty bad mistakes," she said, finally, "But you can fix things. I'm not saying you can go and say 'Hey, sorry' and it'll all be peachy, because you're not stupid enough to believe that, but everything can be fixed. Willow tried to end the world and she's going to atone. And she doesn't even have the 'I had no soul' thing to fall back on. You want to make it up to Buffy, you want to make things better. That's a start, isn't it? Apologies won't make it all better, but they're a start. And if things are too tough for you there, you're doing what you can but they don't want to know you, if you need someplace to go, my door's open. Okay? You got me, now, and you probably got Angel too. Time heals all wounds, apparently, but that's bullshit. Sometimes you gotta heal them yourself." 

Cordelia pulled the blanket up over the sleeping vampire -- souled vampire, she corrected herself -- and made sure the curtains were shut properly so the sun wouldn't fry him come morning. Then she went to her computer, and sat down to write an email.

To: xandman@hotmail.com

From: queen_c@angel.investigations.net

Subject: Urgent. 

Normally I'd email Giles or Willow with something like this, but from what I've heard so far, you're my best bet, which says a lot for what's going on down there. 

Okay, now, earlier tonight, Spike arrived on my doorstep, drunk as a skunk in a trunk, and he'd been crying. He had this look in his eyes, that look that Angel gets -- hurting, guilt-ridden look. Soulful, and kind of ironic. I don't know. I asked him to tell me what happened and he just broke down and start sobbing all over me. Once I managed to get him inside and calmed down -- well, he wasn't crying anymore -- I got him to tell me what happened. He told me everything. He left Sunnydale so he could get his chip out and come back and wreak some vengeance of his own. I know you're about to stop reading now and spout some crap about how you knew it all along -- he actually specifically said he wasn't going to hurt Dawnie or Anya. Though he did continue to say he'd been entertaining thoughts of turning Dawnie. Big Bad and Lil' Bad I think he said. Anyway, the demon screwed him over and he got a soul instead. So he's sleeping it off on my sofa as I type this, and I need you to do something for me. Okay, more accurately, for Spike. It's important, and I really need you to do this. Tell Buffy he's sorry, tell Dawnie he's sorry, tell them that he loves them and he's sorry and tell them that he got his soul and tell them that he'll come to Sunnydale and start trying to make up for it as soon as he's okay. Please? I haven't asked you for anything and I'm asking you now. You owe me, Alexander Harris, no matter how much you hate Spike. I can see it now "Guess what guys, Deadboy Jr's now Soulboy Jr!". Please do this? I swear I'll never ask you for anything again if you do this. 

- Cordelia

"Cordelia?" Spike looked up blearily. The tap-tap-tap of the keys had stirred him from his restless sleeping. 

"Go back to sleep, Spike. Maybe it'll seem better in the morning. You can stay here as long as you need to." Cordelia patted his arm and tucked him in properly. "Should I call Angel?"

"I'd rather you didn't." He replied, already on his way back into dreamland. 

Cordelia checked the curtains one last time and went to drain out her bath, and go to bed. 

She'd check in on Spike in the morning, and make sure he didn't have any thoughts about sunbathing. 

As she turned out her lamp and settled down to sleep, Cordelia hoped Someone Up There was watching over this wayward non-Scooby just as they watched over the Scoobies. He needed it too.

***

Author's Note:

Well, that was probably fluffy, unrealistic and Cordelia wouldn't really do that in the circumstances. I know that, so if all you want to do in a review is say how completely wrong I am and how much you hated my story? Bugger off. 


	2. United We Stand

[Disclaimer: I do not own anything created by Joss Whedon...much as I'd like to own Spike]

Author's Note:

Okay, guys? 'Soulful Eyes' was supposed to be a one-chapter thing, y'know, write this, write no more...

But, since all four reviews seemed to want me to write more, I did. 

And to those who thought they noticed C/S hints, well, ya did. So did I. I don't know how they slipped past me, considering I'm a C/A shipper and this is a prequel to C/A angst ('Let Go'). I tried to counter them with having Cordy remind Spike of his nanny, but it looks like I failed. Oh well. We'll just see where it goes. Also, I don't know whether or not Cordelia has a car, but let's pretend for this fic that she does. It seems likely to me, but then, you never know. 

Soulful Eyes

Chapter Two: United We Stand

by Adele Elisabeth

By the time Spike was stirring, Cordelia was already up and had just had breakfast. She was currently in the process of hunting her other earring, swearing at her shoes and trying to drink her coffee. Spike paused to enjoy the show. 

"Blood's in the fridge," she informed him as she passed, "I'm sure a big bad vamp like yourself knows how to heat up blood."

"Indeed I do," he agreed, throwing back the blanket and swinging his legs off the sofa to stand. "Need a hand there?"

"Aha!" Cordelia found the offending article of jewellery. "Nope, found it."

Spike chuckled, and headed for the kitchen.

They'd decided Spike would spend the day at Cordelia's...just, getting his bearings and maybe watching some day-time TV. He didn't seem to have any sunbathing tendencies to Cordelia, but she told him she'd be ringing to check on him every now and again so he better answer the phone or he'll have her arriving on the doorstep to make sure he hasn't done something stupid.

Cordelia was now at Angel Investigations, checking her email. 

To: queen_c@angel.investigations.net

From: xandman@hotmail.com

Subject: Re: Urgent

Spike has a soul? And I'm supposed to just go to Buffy, 'Hey, it doesn't matter that Spike tried to rape you because he has a soul now'? 

Okay, that was beneath me, I know. I can hear your fit-for-a-Queen C tirade from here. All right, I'll tell them, but don't think for a second that I'm liking this, Cordelia. Is Spike staying with you? If so, is that really such a good idea? He's a killer, Cordelia. I'll bet his soulled self wasn't any better than his soulless self. 

- Xander

Wesley had accidently been reading over her shoulder. "Spike's here?"

"Wesley, can you say, private?" Cordelia inquired sarcastically. 

"I'm sorry, Cordelia, I didn't mean to. I was glancing past and I saw some of it." Wesley said defensively, inwardly bracing himself for Queen C's arrival. 

Cordelia's glare softened. "Spike's at my apartment. He got a soul. And Xander can fret all he likes, from what Spike's told me, he was a pussycat when he was mortal. William Giles, poet not-so-extraordinaire."

"Not so?" 

"He was known as William the Bloody -- because he wrote bloody awful poetry. Spike may be soulled now, but he's nothing like Angel. Much more talkative, for starters." 

"Is that a good thing?"

"I think so."

Wesley looked uncertain, and he said finally, "I'll trust your judgement on this one, Cordelia, but if you need anything..."

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Big brother much?"

"You're keeping one of the Order of Aurelius on your sofa. I think I'm entitled to a certain amount of 'big brotherness'." 

"Cordelia's what?" 

"Jesus Christ, Angel, how many times have I told you to hum when you sneak up on people!" Cordelia exclaimed grouchily. "I am so buying you a bell."

"I don't think that's what we should be worrying about most, Cordelia. Who do you have on your sofa?" Angel asked. It sounded like a question. Cordelia knew it was a command. 

"Spike." She said, and closed her eyes, waiting for the onslaught. 

"Cordy are you insane!" 

And here it comes. "No, I'm not. Not only is Spike chipped, he now has a soul. No curse, no prophecy, just a soul. He went to a demon to get his chip out -- shut up Angel and let me finish -- and got screwed over, so now he's got a soul instead. He turned up on my doorstep last night, and can you please leave him alone? He doesn't want you to know he's here."

"Spike has a soul?" Angel's mind boggled at that. He didn't really remember Spike as a mortal, but did recall something about effulgent something. Whatever the hell that was. 

"Yes, Spike has a soul. Now, don't you have a case to be working on or something?" 

Wesley shook his head. "We haven't had an y clients come in and you know you haven't had a vision."

"In which case I'm going to go and grab some lunch, and check on Spike while I'm at it." Cordelia announced, standing up. 

Angel and Wesley watched her go. 

"I should do...something." Angel stated. 

"What, exactly?" Wesley queried. 

"I'm not sure."

Spike answered the phone. 

"Dawn?" he just about fell off the sofa when he heard her voice. 

"Xander told us where you where, Cordy wrote to him last night." Dawn's voice sounded vaguely accusing. "Just tell me why, and I'll never bother you again. Why did you do...all that?"

"Bit, you're never a bother." Spike told her, righting himself as he did. "As for why...I couldn't take it anymore, Nibblet. The bullshit me and your sister had going on...I couldn't take it anymore and I snapped. I made a big mistake, and I don't know if I can ever make it up to her. Or you. You know I love you, bit. You remind me of my own little sister, Eve." 

"Dawn and Eve. Typical." Dawn said, but her voice was shaking. She hated Spike when Xander first told her, but she didn't hate him anymore. She couldn't. And there was all that sincerity in his voice...

"Bit, I'll come back to Sunnydale when I've sorted myself out and I'll try and make things up to you. I don't know when that'll be, but I'll send you stuff, y'know? Birthday presents, Christmas, letters. And I'll call you. I promise." 

"Okay. I'll hold you to that, y'know. I miss you, Spike."

"I miss you, too, bit. Hey, that's the cheerleader at the door. You want to talk to her? She just got in."

"No, I better go, but you can say hi to her from me, okay?" 

"Okay, bit. Bye."

"Bye." 

"Was that Dawn?" Cordelia asked, putting her purse down on the coffee table. 

"Yeah. She said something about you writing to Xander...?" Spike raised an eyebrow questioningly. 

"Oh. That." Cordelia winced. She'd been hoping she could worry about that later. Much later. 

"Yeah. That."

"Well...I thought I should let Sunnydale know, and I would have wrote to Giles or Willow but after what happened there, not such a good idea, so Xander was my best bet, and...well, you know how you told me how you wanted Buffy and Dawn to know how sorry you are?" 

"Yeah...Cordy, you didn't!"

"I'm sorry. I thought it was a good idea at the time." 

Spike hesitated, then sighed. "It probably was a good idea. Th...thank you."

"Did you just stutter?"

"I most certainly did not."

"You did, you did! The big bad of Sunnyhell just stuttered! There goes your reputation," Cordelia giggled, lightening the mood. "Wonder if you're ticklish...wouldn't look good for the big bad to be giggling..."

Spike had barely enough time to realise what she intended to do before he was pounced on and wrestled to the floor, so that Cordelia could straddle his midsection and tickle him into submission. 

Her final giggles trailing off as she leaned against the sofa, Cordelia sighed. "I better get back to work before Angel decides to dock my pay."

"How did you get away?" Spike asked, curious.

"Well...Wesley sort of read my email over my shoulder. After they lectured me about how unsafe it was to keep you on my sofa -- like you're some kind of untamed pet or something -- I said I was going for lunch." Cordelia stated.

"Can't you just keep a secret?" Spike groaned, but it was in a teasing fashion. He'd relaxed a lot more, now. 

"It's not my fault Wesley's insufferably curious."

"I guess not. Are you sure you have to go?" 

"Yeah. Better go earn my pay. We could do something later?" she suggested, hoping to keep him occupied. Keep him occupied meant keeping him happy, and she liked his laugh. It was nice. 

"Sure." He agreed. She reminded him a little of Dru -- all grace and beauty, and hidden depths. Especially when she walked. 

"Okay, I'll see you later." And then she vanished out the door.

Meanwhile, in Hell. I mean Sunnydale.

Buffy still wasn't quite over the whole 'Spike has a soul' thing. 

"...and I knew you two had something going on." Dawn finished triumphantly. "But I think he might be over you, anyway." 

"What?" Buffy's head shot up at that. Just when she thought she might be able to love him after all, he gets over her? 

"He had Buffy-Voice on when he said Cordelia's name." Dawn said simply. "Of course, I could be wrong."

There's a BuffyVoice?

"There's a Buffy Voice?"

"Duh."

What is Buffy, stupid?

School had finished a little while ago, and Dawn had been talking non-stop ever since. She'd rung Cordelia's place using a payphone at school, which was why she kept the call short. The reason she used the payphone was because she wasn't sure Buffy would want her calling Spike. 

"I'm going down to the Magic Box, okay, Buff?" 

"Yeah...yeah, fine." 

Pick up, pick up already...

Spike had come and seen Angel and Wesley, and they'd all sorted things out. Spike would work at Angel Investigations too, on a trial period at first (Angel's idea), and in the meantime, he could move in properly with Cordelia (Cordelia's idea). Which was why this was the message Buffy heard.

"Hi, you've reached Cordelia Chase and Spike. We can't come to the phone just now, Spike's probably just set the kitchen on fire again--" "--hey that was just the once, Cordy--" "--sure, sure. Anyhow, leave a message, your name and number after the beep and we'll get back to you shortly! Ciao!" 

After the tone, Buffy left a short message. "Hi, Spike? It's Buffy. We need to talk."

She hung up, and stared at the phone. Two days. Two days. And already he was on the answer phone? 

***

Author's Note:

So, how do you think it's going? I have an idea for how it's going to end, so I do know vaguely where this is going, don't worry. 


	3. Peaches, Peroxide and Milkmen

[Disclaimer: I do not own anything created by Joss Whedon...much as I'd like to own Spike]

Author's Note:

Answers to reviews, though I've forgotten who did the reviewing:

I. Hate. Buffy. There will be no B/S in my story, other than mention of past B/S. Ever. That is final. This is Cordelia's story, and Buffy is just an annoyance. If this offends, please, be my guest -- click the back button. 

Do not fear, there will be no B/A in my story! I am not that twisted! I am a Buffy hater through and through, this story is C/S now, and if you'll read some of my other work, you'll see there is only one story where I even approach being nice to Buffy, and that's not even the Buffy of this world. I justify my niceness by having an alternate universe. 

It's entirely possible that he did go to get a soul on purpose for Buffy. I chose not to interpret it that way, because I don't particularly like that idea. That's my right as a fanfiction writer, to deliberately misinterpret things because they don't fit the way I like 'em. But I have read a lot of fiction that says he didn't go to get it for Buffy, that the demon screwed him over, and I do agree with that. Since he never actually said his motives at the end of season six, it can be interpreted any way I like. That's just how I see it, anyhow. 

Cordelia: [points and laughs at Lindsey after reading Imzadi's review of 'History Always Repeats Itself'] He can't even be evil right!

Lindsey: Hey! I almost burned your way of being saved from the Vocah demon thingie? Wasn't that evil?

Cordelia: Operative word, almost. You couldn't do it! You gave Angel a chance to get it back. Nyah, nyah, nyah.

Angel: Play nice, children. 

Spike: [stunned] I think the ponce just tried to crack a joke. Oy, seer, did you forsee any bizarre mental illnesses for Peaches?

Cordelia: [looks equally worried] No...you don't think he's Angelus again? 

Angel: Can I not have a sense of humor? [defensive] Why does everybody always think I'm Angelus?

Cordelia: Cracking jokes is just about as bad as wearing leather pants. And don't think I don't know about that pair in your closet.

Angel: [guilty look]

Spike: The poof kept the pants? [points and laughs]

Cordelia: You just want to see him in them. 

Spike: [splutters]

Angel: [looks disturbed]

Oh, another small disclaimer. The story of Darla and the milkmen was inspired by a fic by...crap I forgot the author. It was a little story (well, rant) from Miss Edith's point of view about Drusilla. When Drusilla convinced Darla that a postman was going to kill her or something, and she swung between murderous rages and dreadful fear towards them. Being a demented seer has it's up points. 

Soulful Eyes

Chapter Three: Peaches, Peroxide and Milkmen

by Adele Elisabeth

Cordelia shuttered as she listened to the short message, and her stance turned almost defensive. Spike wondered what it was that could bother her like that. 

He didn't have to wonder long.

She hit a button, and thrust the phone at him, before disappearing into her bedroom. 

"Hi, Spike? It's Buffy. We need to talk."

Spike stared after Cordelia. That bothered her? Why would that bother her? 

He didn't note that he paid more heed to Cordelia's reaction than to the message itself. 

Truth be told, Cordelia didn't know why, either. Her first thought had been 'She's going to take him away from me,' but that was absurd. He wasn't hers and she didn't want him. Not at all. 

Buffy, Buffy, Buffy. It's always about her. Always. Why can't somebody see me first? Want me? I'm not playing second fiddle to a pint-sized superbitch. A blonde, to boot. Typical. It's not fair. 

Her mind raced, and confusion reigned. 

"You okay in there, pet?" Spike called, concern evident in his tone. 

Was she? She wasn't sure. "Yeah."

He opened the door. "Gave me a right turn, actin' like you did."

Artfully contrived confusion looked innocently back at him. "Acting like what?"

Spike stared levelly back at her. She could pull that bullshit all she liked, he could be patient if he had to. He'd lived with Drusilla for over a hundred years, hadn't he?

Cordelia flushed and looked away first. After a pause, she asked, "Are you going to call her?" her tone was faintly challenging, and Spike registered that where lesser men might not have.

"I might." His tone was even. "Better to see her chasin' after me for once."

"'Guess." 

You know he loves her, Chase. Stupid order of Aurora got a death wish, have they? Aurora borealis or something. No, that's the Northern Lights. Or was it Southern Lights? Screw it, who cares? Anyway, it's not like you wanted him, even if you had a chance. No -- Cordelia Callista Chase always has a chance. More than just a chance. I can have any man I like. Except Angel, but that's just because he's cursed, and he's in love with aforementioned pint-sized superbitch. 

Spike observed her carefully. Something was running through her pretty little head, an inner battle of sorts. She reminded him of Dru, and he idly wondered what his princess had been like when she was sane, and mortal. He was still fond of her, but now it was tinged with pity.

"Just going to stand there and stare at me?"

"I might, at that. Got a good view here." 

"I'm not blonde, and I'm not a dwarf." She pointed out, helpfully. 

"Always did prefer brunettes. Was Angelus had a thing for blondes." 

"Ah. That explains the peroxide." 

"What?" Spike spluttered. "Why does everybody think me and Angelus got together? That's just wrong! I'm not a bloody ponce! I like women! Wo-men. With tits! Not Peaches, I do not want to get into Peaches pants!" 

"But you didn't say you haven't." Cordelia pointed out, again, helpfully. 

Spike paused. "Didn't I?" 

Now it was Cordelia's turn to pause. "You mean...Spike! Ewww, icky, ewww, eww! You and Angel? Ick, ick, ick!" 

"Most older vampires are of ambiguous sexuality. Demons, too, I think. Anya said something to me about how she could understand how I was attracted to Buffy, something about her arse. I stopped listening after a while, though, so I can't be sure if that's what she said." 

"You're definitely not going to...y'know, ever again?" Cordelia asked, suspiciously. Ewww. Icky. Angel and Spike! That had a squick factor of a google-plex.

Spike pretended to consider it, and Cordelia threw a pillow at him.

"I don't like it any more than you do, Angel. But we have to trust Cordelia's judgement until we can see it for ourselves." Wesley sighed, valiantly resisting the urge to wipe his glasses. 

"Remember Wilson Christopher?" Angel asked darkly. 

"See what for yourselves?" Spike inquired, lighting a cigarette as he walked in. He leered at Angel. "Greetin's, watcher boy, Peaches. Cor's been regaling me with tales of your doubtful manliness. And if she looks at you funny all day, Peaches? Not my fault. Honest." After the Angel-Spike revelation, he'd gone on to spread tales of the giggle-worthy kind, a few of Angelus's more amusing moments. And the time he and Drusilla convinced Darla that Angelus was in love with a milkman, but refused to say which one. Darla gave Angelus the cold shoulder for weeks, and milkmen kept turning up dead. That even amused Cordelia, though he'd been a bit worried it might be too much. Apparently Angelus never found out exactly why Darla went on a murderous rampage towards milkmen. 

"What have you done?" Angel demanded, advancing on Spike. Spike backed up, into Cordelia, who'd walked in behind him.

"I'd say I was worried about testosterone poisoning or something, but I don't think I could find any in here." Cordelia commented as she passed. The insult was casual and seemed almost absent-minded. Force of habit, perhaps?

"Cordy, are you okay?" Angel asked her quickly, abandoning Spike, who gave him a two-fingered salute of his own as he walked away. "Don't think I don't know what that means, either, Spike."

'Stupid bloody ponce' could be heard, among other, more colourful, mutterings. 

"Yeah, Angel, I'm fine. I thought we went over this?" Cordelia fixed him with a stern glare.

"Why isn't he calling?" Buffy muttered, glaring at the phone. 

"Either he's too busy, or he got over you when he got his soul." Dawn told her helpfully. 

"Got over me? Too busy?" Buffy's voice went up an octave. 

"He's not your lap dog, anymore, Buff." Dawn rolled her eyes. "You say he's a thing, he can't love, and he's got to get over you, and then you get pissy when he does? Can you say, hypocrite?" 

Buffy glared at her sister. 

What a bitch.

What a bitch.

***

Author's Note:

Guest Speakers for this Author's Note, are: 

Cordelia Chase! 

Cordy: [curtseys]

Spike!

Spike: [bows]

Lindsey MacDonald!

Lindsey: [glares at the other two]

And, last but certainly not least, Dawn Summers!

Dawn: [grins impishly]

Spike: Cordy...[sidles up to her] Remember that cop lady, Kate?

Cordy: Yeah...

Spike: Think she'd loan us her handcuffs?

Dawn: [sniggers]

Cordy: Firstly, I don't know, secondly, eww, and thirdly -- hello, Dawnie is here! 

Lindsey: Don't forget the evil lawyer. I'm evil, damnit. 

Spike: Sure thing. [patronizingly to Lindsey] You're really evil. I'm sure they're really scared, really. 

Dawn: [deadpans] Eeeek. It's an evil lawyer. I'm soooo scared. 

Lindsey: [sulks]

Cordy: [points and laughs]


	4. Something Beautiful

****

[Disclaimer: I do not own anything created by Joss Whedon. Mmmhmm. You think he'd loan me Spike?] 

Author's Note: 

Oh my god, I haven't updated this in _forever!_ Well, I was just reading over it, and felt inspired. Umm, yeah, sorry about this story being so damn short…

****

Soulful Eyes

Chapter Four: Something Beautiful

By Adele Elisabeth

Spike waited patiently for someone to pick up the phone, while Cordelia had her nightly bath. "Buffy?" he asked, hesitantly, when finally it did. 

"Spike?" 

He let out a whoosh of unneeded breath when he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line. "Uh, hi." 

"What do you want?" her voice was harsh -- unusually so, he felt, considering she'd been the one who seemed to want him to call…

"You left a message…so…I called back…" He paused, thoughtful. "I was thinking of coming down to Sunnydale for a couple of days to, you know, see how things are…check up on the 'bit…" He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe, ah, have a bit of a chat? I know there's no chance of an us--" _And I'm not sure I even want that anymore…_ "-- but we should clear the air, as it were…" 

Her long silence was not promising. At length, she responded, quietly, "Yeah. That'd be fine." 

Cordelia was in turmoil. 

Spike was _Buffy's_ -- like Angel -- there was this great big invisible sign over his head that said **PROPERTY OF BUFFY SUMMERS**. People didn't seem to really pay much attention to whether or not Buffy _deserved_ all these great guys queuing up to get kicked around by the Hellmouth's personal bitca. Cordelia certainly didn't think she did -- Buffy was an ungrateful cow and an idiot if she couldn't see how great Spike was -- but she was forced to admit that, well…they did. 

Belong to Buffy. 

Not that _she_ cared; she hastened to assure herself. She didn't give a crap if Spike was head over heels for the smallest biggest bitch in the world. 

Nope. 

Not at all. 

__

So not her problem. 

Oh, the hell with it. 

She _did_ care and she _was_ pissed and Spike deserved better than Buffy. Like…her. He deserved somebody who cared about him (like her). Somebody who understood him (her again). Somebody who could accept him for who he was (still her)…He deserved better than Buffy goddamn Summers. 

Because no matter how much she wanted to believe that she could have any man she wanted -- like Spike -- there were some she just…couldn't. Xander. Angel. _Spike_. 

Dammit. And she thought _she_ was a bitch. 

Well, Cordelia Chase had _nothing_ on life. 

Spike hesitated, and then knocked on Cordelia's bedroom door. She'd been sulking in there after her bath; he wasn't sure what the problem was--

Okay, that was a lie. He had a fair idea. 

He just…

Well. 

Damn it, were women always this confusing or was it just him? He had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't just him. 

Cordelia was…amazing. She was beautiful, she was smart, she was witty, she made him laugh, she made him smile…Buffy had made him want to be a better man. Cordelia made him feel _alive_. For the first time in over a century, he felt as though he belonged somewhere. Here. 

With her. 

Small problem, though…of the tall, dark and over-hanging caveman brow kind. Angel's dark, jealous eyes had told him clearly that the older vampire would quite happily string him up by his balls if he even _thought_ of touching Cordelia Chase in any way other than friendly. 

Oh, he'd be _plenty_ friendly…

He winced. Now was not that time for that kind of thought…

Finally, her door opened. "Yeah?" 

"I, ah, packed my overnight bag…gonna get goin' soon…thought you might like me to tell the Slayerettes something from you…?" 

"You're going? Now?" she sounded almost panicked. 

"Well, soon…" 

He didn't get a chance to say anything else, because suddenly there was this warm, soft body against his and Cordelia…_Cordelia Chase_; _Angel's_ Cordelia…was kissing him. Desperately. As if her life depended on it. There was so much emotion. He was knocked for six. 

She pulled back, seeming awfully shy -- a word he would not normally associate with the leggy brunette. "Yeah…just thought…ummm…wanted you to know…how I…y'know…felt…okay…say hi to the Scoobies for me!" 

Her door slammed shut in his face. 

He blinked, confused. 

__

OHMYGOD. _What the _hell_ did I just do?_ Cordelia was panicking, seriously panicking. She had just…well; she'd just kissed Spike. And then slammed the door in his face. _Oh, great move, Chase_, she berated herself. 

He was hammering on her door, now. If he knocked any harder it was going to break. 

"What?" she called. 

"What do _you_ think?!" he shouted back. "Let me in!" 

"If you don't stop knocking, my door's going to break and then you're going to be in anyway!" 

"Looking like an attractive option right now, Cordy!" 

She sighed, and opened the door. He half-walked, half-fell into the room. 

"Want to tell me what that was about?" he asked, his expression softening. 

She backed up a little. "If I say no, will you go?" 

"No." 

"It was worth a shot." 

"You're stalling, Cordy." 

"Yeah…yeah I am…" 

"Cordelia. Please." 

She shook her head, then gave a little, defeated sigh and sank down onto her bed. "I, kinda…well…it's like this…I sort of…have feelings…for you…and I wanted you to know. Before you ran off to be Buffy's bitch again. Thought you might like to know. Say hi to Dawn for me!" she added, brightly, then gave him a pointed look. "I've said my piece, you can _go_ now." 

"Cordelia…" he breathed (well…). 

"That's my name." 

"You think you can just tell me that and I'll just _leave_?" he demanded. 

"You're in love with Buffy, remember? Most people are. I'm starting to think I should leave the country just to get a lovelife." 

He chuckled at that, and then gave her a stern look. "I'm not leaving until…well, until we're all sorted out." 

Gazing down at Cordelia later -- much, much later -- as the moonlight played across her bare shoulders, her breath evened out in sleep, Spike smiled. She was so beautiful. 

They'd talked. Among other things. He'd heard of 'whirlwind romances' -- pfft -- before, and from what he'd heard, they didn't last. He decided that even if it didn't, it would've been worth it. She was something, all right. Something beautiful. 

He was entering into a relationship. With Cordelia Chase…of all people, _Cordelia_…

Hell, even her name was beautiful. 

This had all happened so fast it seemed absurd -- but in his unlife, he'd learned to take happiness where he found it. If he happened to find it being in her life and in her bed…who was he to argue? He grinned at the thought. "Beautiful," he murmured, then chuckled. "Effulgent. Good word for you, love, effulgent…brilliant, radiant, glowing, luminous, dazzling…you sure as hell dazzle _me_," he grinned again at her sleeping form, and leaned over to kiss her forehead, before settling down to sleep. 

When Cordelia woke up, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something bad was going to happen…she didn't know what, but something…

"Spike, I know it sounds stupid, but I don't want you to go. Just in case, you know?" she wouldn't have said she was begging -- a Chase did not beg -- but she was pretty close to pleading. 

"Nothing's going to happen to me," he assured her. "Just a quick visit, check on the nibblet, see demon-girl, taunt the whelp, and I'll be back before you know it." 

She gave him a sulky look. He kissed her pouty lower lip. "Trust me, love." 

She sighed and let him kiss her, before he left. 

It would be the last time he saw her alive. 

Spike swore under his breath. He'd been held up -- he was going to be a whole day late, and he couldn't get a hold of Cordelia. She was going to be pissed as hell when he got back, and a pissed off Cordelia was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn't answering her phone, or any of the numerous messages he left. 

What the hell was going on? 

Giving up, he retreated to the living room where Dawn was watching a Monty Python movie -- **The Meaning Of Life** -- that he'd recommended. He'd gotten her hooked on them, Monty Python's Flying Circus, and they would often debate whose name was 'coolest' -- Michael Palin, John Cleese, Eric Idol, Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones, or Graham Chapman. He staunchly maintained that it was Eric Idol, but she was of the belief that that was only because of his 'Billy Idol Thing'. 

"Spike, it's Angel. He wants to talk to you," Buffy called through, sounding a little confused. 

Bemused, the blonde vampire got up to answer the phone. "What is it?" 

"It's about Cordelia." 

****

***

Author's Note: 

All done. Love it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Think it went too fast and could've been _way_ better if I put in more effort? (I agree). Let me know! 

[unsubtle hinting about reviews] 

Cordelia: I cannot _believe_ you killed me off. 

Adele: It's called artistic license. [smirk] 


End file.
